Piano Keys
by LilCosette
Summary: An angel and a demon... Set post episode 22, so minor spoilers for that. Post Break, future fic. Sara and Michael.
1. Piano Keys

Author's Notes: Future fic. There's another chapter or two in there somewhere if they're wanted by anyone.

Spoilers: Tiny ones for "Flight" other than the obvious ones

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I just like playing with the charaters like they're puppets.

Beta: Thanks to morph for the beta

Dedicated once again to Karen, who is my muse

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was peaceful. So quiet, yet full of music at the same time. A piano was softly playing at the front while the empty church whispered prayers around him. He smiled and cocked his head to one side, surveying the room.

It was very simple, a small church with wooden pews, ancient stories held within each one. It was stone, a solid structure full of memory. He shivered in the sudden coldness of the room and glanced upwards. At the front of the room were three stain glass windows, Jesus with his mother Mary in the central one, but to one side was an angel, the other a demon, held in contest with each other. The light filtered through and flooded the room with color. He looked over at the piano where a sweet, haunting melody flowed from the player's fingers.

He stepped forward silently, trying not to disturb her. Her hair caught the light from the stained glass as he moved closer. Her hair was like a halo around her hair, glowing light all around it, burning red in the sunlight.

As he came closer her playing got harder, louder, slightly angrier but still as sweet. As if by instinct, she shuffled aside to let him pass by her but he joined her on the stool.

"May I?" He asked the question softly, trying not to break her out of the quiet serenity she'd created in the air. Without looking up she nodded and kept playing. He smiled and sat next to her, so close he could see a single teardrop clinging to her nose. Quietly he rested his fingers on the keys, waited for the rhythm to come.

She hit a high note and started a bridge again and he joined her, flowing with her fingers, just an octave lower, glancing at the music, swaying gently as she did and they both reached for the pedal together.

They both fumbled and the church went silent.

"Sorry," he murmured. She didn't reply and started from the start of the bar. He picked up a bar later. She reached down for a note and brushed his hand. His heart skipped a beat, but she didn't notice, she just kept playing, lifting one hand to turn the page then coming back to the music.

"Did you lose someone?" He whispered, his voice oddly loud over the music. She wavered for a second and went back to the music.

"I thought I did." She glanced up at the windows. "The only angel in all the demons. He was the only there. But then he left. He never even said goodbye."

He squeezed his eyes shut in pain at the memory. "Maybe he didn't get the chance."

His fingers skimmed the keys, the pattern that they made so obvious in his head that he never thought about it. He just played. E, F, G, up to A, and back again on the cycle to G, higher and higher, or lower and lower.

"Who are you?" She whispered, her fingers stopping their movement and coming to rest. She folded her hands and put them in her lap, turning her head to look at his face as he played on.

"Michael Scofield, who are you?"

Michael sighed and lifted his fingers from the keys.

"Who are you to be a prisoner, a liar, a deceiver, and then to care, to ask, to answer, to come closer to me and then just to leave me. To use me then leave, without saying goodbye?" Tears slid off her jaw onto her hands.

"I couldn't say goodbye. You never gave me the chance."

She looked into his eyes and he filled with pain.

"God Michael, what are you even doing here? You should be in Mexico, Indonesia..." She let out a harsh laugh "Australia. Out of the country, safe with Lincoln."

He turned away and picked up the music again.

"This was my mother's church." he explained. "We used to come here every Sunday whenever we could when she was alive. I needed to think, somewhere of solace. I never expected you to be here." Sara smiled.

"It's Illinois. It's a whole state and we both come to the same church. What are the odds." She laughed softly and joined him in the music. "My mom died when I was young too, but she wasn't exactly the church going type. There was just one song she used to listen to, and say 'Listen Sara, this is real music, not the rock stuff you hear on the radio.' This song."

He turned to study her face. "Sara Tancredi. You will never cease to amaze me. So many different stories, different depths."

A smile played at her features. "What about you?" Her voice teased him as she talked. "Michael Scofield: dangerous fugitive, playing the piano?"

He ducked his eyes and chuckled softly. "Yeah well, there you go."

"You're not safe here."

"Here? Here is the safest place in the world."

"How does that work?"

"It's a church. A safe-house. Legally, no-one can arrest me. No-one can shoot me. As long as I don't leave this building, I'm safe."

A glimpse of a sad smile flickered across Sara's face and she shook her head. "But you've created your own prison again then. Yet another that you have to break out of." She said, tasting the irony of it on her tongue

"But this time, I can say goodbye." He stilled his fingers, slid a hand past her ear through her hair and leaned forward to kiss her.

He felt her warm lips, sticky with lipstick press against his and open slightly, letting him closer. He pushed slightly and she returned it, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. When he pulled away she blinked up at him, a small smile on her face.

"An angel and a demon. How could you have known?" He tilted his head at her question in confusion, encouraging her to continue. "I always wondered what the tattoos meant. A battle between the two. And we all play our part, don't we?" She held his hand against her head before pulling it away and slipping his hand from her grasp.

"Maybe it was fate?" He smiled and changed the subject. "Are you still working at-"

"Fox River? No. After you broke out, they knew I'd left the door unlocked and as you can assume, they fired me."

Michael sighed. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault."

"Yes," she smiled again. "But I'm glad. The only thing keeping me there was you."

"You kept me alive." He laughed. "I still owe you that coffee."

"It's that kind of charm act that's getting you into trouble." She joined in his laugher, reliving her words.

"Panama. Mexican coffee on the beach." He closed his eyes. "No cops, no people, just hospitality and white beaches." He paused and opened his eyes again, looking at her. "Come with me?"

She studied his face and nodded. "I've been waiting for you."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

TBC Hopefully.. Please review and tell me what you think.


	2. For Love

Authors Notes: I decided not to make it a chapter fic, so this is just a sequel. Thank you to everyone that said they wanted me to continue. This is for you. One line shamelessly stolen from _The Shawshank Redemption_.

Thanks to my wonderful beta, morph.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Panama. Mexican coffee on the beach." He closed his eyes. "No cops, no people, just hospitality and white beaches."_

This area of Panama had so many colors. It was a center point for tourists so everything was clean, neat and beautiful. One little coffee store on the foreshore almost glowed with vibrant colors. Red umbrellas that sat nonchalantly over tables, mixed with a white glow of sand and the vivid blue of the ocean.

Michael took Sara's hand in his, and they strode toward it, mutual in their decision.

The small cafe was bustling with activity, leaving only one table vacantadouble facing the beach. The two took their seats and vacantly scanned the menus.

"What have you been doing lately?" Michael questioned, abandoning the menu while he talked. Sara's eyes lifted from her copy to look at him. "I mean, if you've not been working at Fox River, then what have you been doing?"

She sighed reflectively and turned back to her menu. "I was at rehab for a while."

Instantly, Michael wished he'd put his foot in his mouth before he could be so stupid. Of course she had. "I'm sorry. I had heard about that."

Sara's eyes flickered to meet his and she shook her head. "Never blame yourself for what I did. There were so many things happening, it's not your fault." She sighed. "It's actually partially my fathers fault. Who would have thought my dear old Dad would have been pressured into killing someone."

Neither spoke for about a minute. It wasn't an awkward silence, just a pensive one. Michael gazed over at the water. There was a mutual understanding between the two that comforted him. They'd both been scarred by this conspiracy, their families had been hurt and pulled apart.

"How's Lincoln?" Sara spoke up, cutting through the quiet.

Michael glanced down at his hands. "He's good. I heard from him a while ago. He and LJ are out of the country under false names. Veronica crosses the border every now and again to visit them." Seeing Sara's slightly confused look he continued. "Veronica's trying to clean this whole mess up."

Sara opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a waiter beside her. "Are you ready to order?"

Michael was scanning the menu hoping to find something he'd like when Sara spoke up.

"Actually, I feel like ice cream." She pointed behind him and he turned to look at a vendor beside the beach.

Turning to the bemused waiter Michael nodded his thanks, and the two stepped off of the wooden decking and onto the sandy beach.

Two minutes later, Michael gripped Sara's hand with one of his own, holding his ice cream in the other.

"How have you been?" She asked softly, taking a lick of the strawberry mass atop her cone.

He gave her an amused look. "Harried. I'd been running around the country trying to help Vee stop this thing before either of us are found. The good news is that now I can take a break. She's got a lead and we're going to pull on it until we get somewhere." He took a deep breath and stopped a drip from sliding down the cone.

Sara laughed shortly. "I can't believe I'm walking along a beach in Panama. This is possibly the weirdest thing that's happened to me in the past few months.

He grinned and turned to look at her, locking eyes. "Oh really?" He slid his hand around her hip and leant in to kiss her. Strawberry ice cream mixed with Michael's chocolate in his mouth, an interesting mix of flavors.

"And that just made it weirder," she laughed, pulling away playfully. Michael sunk down to the sand, pulling her with him.

"They say the sea has no memory" he gestured to the ocean. "There's no-one watching, we're safe. Here, we can be whoever we want to be."

He sighed, feeling all his worry slip away.

"Who are we, Michael?" Sara asked softly, staring out to sea. He turned to look at her.

"Who do you want to be?"

The question just hung there, unanswered in the silence. They sat in solitude and listened to the ocean crashing at the beach wave after wave, constantly. For now, they were two tourists, sitting on the beach of Panama, each looking for answers. For peace. For freedom.

"I want to be this," Sara whispered quickly, and kissed him.

For love.


End file.
